


wanna talk about it?

by haecko



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, How Do I Tag, Hurt/Comfort, Hyuck’s crying, M/M, Mark is there to comfort him, Sad but soft, bare with me, completely rewritten
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-10
Updated: 2019-07-10
Packaged: 2020-06-26 00:02:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19756462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haecko/pseuds/haecko
Summary: Donghyuck’s cries unsettle Mark’s chest, his heart, his firing stomach, and Mark will do anything to put out the flames.





	wanna talk about it?

**Author's Note:**

> quick and short, i had this idea a month ago and finally flushed it out a bit. 
> 
> edit: i’m gracing you with my presence months later! i’ve decided to rewrite this in hopes of satisfying myself much more than the first time... because i hated this the second i read back over it. if you do read this, i hope it reaches you in a new way.

The ambient sound of the shower does well in soothing Donghyuck’s tears. The water slapping against the tile behind the bathroom door curls his toes from under the covers. His weight shifts as he brings his hand to his face, dry with tears, to rub his running nose.

He let his phone fall to the carpeted floor in a soft thud, the dead line that previously reached his mother dimming on the screen. He hugs his shivering arms closer to himself, squeezing his eyes shut. The last of his tears cut from his eyelashes to slide down his face horizontally, guided by the force of gravity.

Donghyuck doesn't notice the lack of buzzing water until he sees Mark in his field of view. His gaze travels over Mark’s waist, wrapped in a towel, up to his dripping black locks, and the furrow in his brow that reads concern. Donghyuck presses the back of his hands into his cheeks quickly, turning over to face the wall without a word.

Subconsciously, Donghyuck’s holding his breath, (as best he can post-sob session,) and he may not realize it, but Mark is too. The last light switches off and the feeling of Mark’s eyes burning into him dulls. Donghyuck closes his eyes, still sniffling, paying attention to the patter of Mark’s wet feet against the carpet. He listens to the rustling of Mark’s clothes as he redresses, and the friction of the sheets between Mark’s fingers when he climbs into his own bed, next to his.

The younger thinks he’s in the clear for the night. Mark must not have heard his cries from the water that dripped deafeningly past his ears... right? No, that felt wrong. Mark would have stepped out of the shower with complaints fresh on his tongue, babbling on about how late it’d gotten and how annoyed he’d be if Donghyuck decided to stay up even later, like a devil cursing him to ruining his chance at a full night of productive sleep, if he didn’t hear anything unusual.

Donghyuck thought he was done being emotional, yet he thought many things in that moment. Too many. About Mark, and himself, about the conversation he had cried over on the phone. Then suddenly, as if the thoughts in his head silenced to a gentle hum, an unexpected quiet, he felt the wetness slipping across his face again. He tried desperately to hold back his forceful sobs, choking himself on his cries. His sniffles became rapid, as if to panick, because that’s as quiet as he could match his burning thoughts to spare Mark the trouble.

“Donghyuck,” he hears from behind his curved back, a soft mumble from his friends lips.

He intends to respond to the call, open his mouth to give Mark some sense of acknowledgment, that he hears him, but only the sound of his heart cracking through his sobs passes the knot in his throat. Out into the open room he cries, echoing off the empty walls, back into his fragile ears. Donghyuck wants to slap himself for being so loud and disturbing at this hour of the night.

Mark takes careful notes of the sounds coming from Hyuck's lips. He’s shocked at first, eyes squinting in the dark as they adjust to the absence of light. He lets himself fall quiet to think, debating on what he should do in reaction to Donghyuck’s emotional state.

The room becomes silent, but despite the quiet, it’s an ear splitting moment, just before another weak cry shakes Donghyuck’s bed.

Mark's heart drops to the bottom of his stomach so rapidly, it begins to ache. His jaw clenches harshly to ignore the pit that opens within him.

“Come here," Mark calls again across the split of the beds, watching Donghyuck’s back tremble on uneven breaths. Their eyes lock once Donghyuck rolls back around in surprise. His delicate, puffy eyes meet Mark's, widening as he realizes how concerned the older really is.

Donghyuck’s face itches, itches so horribly, but he can’t bring himself to touch it. He lets the salt dry on his tired cheeks. Instead, his tear covered hands wipe down the front of his shorts as he moves from under his covers to Mark’s.

Mark lifts the comforter, subtly, but inviting, leaving space in front of him for Donghyuck to slide into. Donghyuck slips in next to him without words, and they both don't say anything for a while.

Donghyuck’s tears have subsided, eyes dry and throat slowly clearing. He keeps his thoughts trained on Mark, the clamminess of his palms rubbed by his friends freshly cleaned fingers. He lets Mark hold them, cuddle up behind him in the gentlest way possible.

It’s so Mark, the way he’s supported, quietly, without confusing words or conflicted feelings. Just Mark, awkward, silent in hopes of finding what to say to him. How to make it better. How can Mark make it better.

"Do you wanna talk about it?" Mark whispers, afraid to break the comfortable tranquility they’ve fallen in. The air of his breath blows across Donghyuck’s exposed ear. They both breathe. No response.

Mark's arm presses into Donghyuck’s waist, not firm, but noticeable. His thumb rubs ever so slightly against the cotton of Donghyuck’s shirt at the front of his torso, his stomach, where Mark’s burning pit relaxes to a sizzle. 

“No,” Donghyuck murmurs, so incredibly hush that Mark almost misses it. But Mark doesn’t miss it. He hears it bounce off the walls, as gently as he’s touching his friends boney hand.

"Okay."

They lay there together. Gradually, as the tranquil moment fills Donghyuck’s lungs and Mark’s heart rises back to it’s throne behind his sternum, they drift closer to rest. Donghyuck’s sniffles stop as his breathing becomes deep and slow. His ribcage contracts against Mark’s stomach, which no longer simmers like the dying embers of a fire.

As Donghyuck reaches up to rub his nose for one last time, to rid his face of it’s dying itch, Mark retracts his arm. He places the heel of his palm on Donghyuck’s back, applying a bit of pressure. The younger obliges, rolling further onto his stomach. Donghyuck keeps his eyes closed towards the wall in front of him when he presses his cheek into the pillow. His hands, warmed by Mark’s, hide underneath the cushion.

Mark perches himself up on his elbow, working at the muscles of Donghyuck’s back. Five minutes pass, and Mark falls softly against him on his stomach. His hand stops moving in circles, and he succumbs to the sleep tugging down his eyelids. His arm drapes itself over the back he was just rubbing, knowing the sunshine will be back in the morning.

**Author's Note:**

> don’t worry too much about donghyuck, he’ll be alright :]]


End file.
